This is Why
by silverjazz
Summary: Today they asked me why I liked you. I told them I didn't like you, I told them I still love you. A heartbreaking oneshot.


I know, I know, finish one story before you start another. But I had a half day and I got writer's block in the middle of the other chapter of Paranoia and I had this idea. It's very different from Paranoia. I had all of two sentences for it, and it wasn't really intended to be long. I'm surprised how long it actually did turn out. Anyways, its just a sad story, but you know, if you like drama, read ahead!

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**This is Why**

Quickly, he scrawled on the finishing touches to his letter. He folded it and gently pushed it into a white envelope and sealed it with some tape. His friend never liked to open envelopes, so he figured he'd save him the trouble.

The young man scribbled: _To my super best friend_ on the front and shoved the envelope into his jacket pocket. As he opened the front door, a brisk autumn wind picked up. He clutched the envelope in his pocket even tighter.

From across the street, a blonde-haired man watched his neighbor and sighed. It was going to be one of those days.

The young man walked ten minutes until he reached the fence. He opened the black gate and let himself in, unannounced to the inhabitance.

He took out the envelope and placed it on a stone. On that stone, he left his identity: his blue hat with the red puffball at the top. Sighing, he took off his gloves and grabbed the letter again. Pushing strands of black hair from his eyes, the man shakily opened his letter and whispered it into the breeze.

_Today, they asked me why I liked you. I told them I never liked you. I said I love you. **Love**. Not loved, not like (or liked for that matter). I was appalled at them. How can they, after all this time, still resent us? Question us? After all that happened…Besides, I was just upset at how they said it, like it was a thing of the past. Ha. Sometimes, I wake up, and I think you'll be there, next to me. That's when it hurts the most. Because even though you're gone, I still love you. I know. You said move on and don't hold on for so long. But what did you think I was going to do, forget about everything that's been my whole life since, well, for my whole life? You were always there, even in the last moments. I'd never been gone from you for more then a weekend, at the most. And now it's been a year. The worst year of my life. Sometimes…sometimes I just wish it would end. That all this pain would go away and I could finally come to you and we could be happy, were the people who wouldn't judge us would be. After all, they were why you left…forced you to leave, and in the worst possible way, too. They took you away from me. Right? They said we don't fit. That we couldn't be. But we were…still are. We are opposites, and yet, we are the same. It's like black and navy blue. Wendy once told me I couldn't wear the black scarf you gave me with my hat. I thought it was absurd. But she said it was because the colors were too close that they clashed. I thought they matched just fine. Sure, we weren't perfect, but I couldn't imagine being with anyone else. And I still can't. All I can do now is, is pray for the day when I can finally leave this wretched world and return to your arms. I love you._

The blonde man sighed in defeat and walked up to his friend. He draped a comforting arm on the distraught man.

"I just…I just thought that maybe, if I wrote this letter to him, I could get it out. You know, finally be able to move on."

The blonde nodded sympathetically as his friend broke down crying at the gravestone of Kyle Broflovski.

"I guess…I was wrong."

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Sad, huh? Well, I just needed a break and this was the key. I hope you liked it. I didn't expect it to be amazing or get many reviews or anything, but it would be nice to know how this fifteen minute (with editting included) story was. Well, I hope you have a happier day then Stan did...

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Sorta Important Edit: Wow…I just started on another story (its like a sudden streak of writing or something) and I remembered I didn't put a disclaimer on my story. So here it is: I don't own South Park or its characters. Though I do own quite a few South Park merchandise…uh, things. My favorite is the music  Pure genius. By the way, to any confusion: Stan is talking to Kyle and Kenny is there to comfort him. I'm sorry, but its not Kenny/Stan. Also, Kyle's death is open ended. I'm probably saying too much by writing this, but I want everyone to know so there's no confusion, I guess. Originally, I saw it as a car accident, but with the tormentors and all, it could have been almost anything. Someone suggested a suicide, but I saw it as maybe a hit and run case or Kyle was driving while really upset and something happened, but there was an influence of intolerance. I just didn't want anyone to get confused. Sorry if this sorta ruined the story, but it was really bothering me 


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